


Inspection

by boudicca



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-16
Updated: 2011-04-16
Packaged: 2017-10-18 03:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boudicca/pseuds/boudicca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canada's not too into D/s, honestly. Too many rules, and the one time he wore leather pants, it made his ass break out really bad.</p><p>But there's something very nice about the <i>mine</i> feeling he gets having big, strong Russia stripped bare and vulnerable on his knees in front of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inspection

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme de-anon.

Canada's not too into D/s, honestly. Too many rules, and the one time he wore leather pants, it made his ass break out really bad.

But there's something very nice about the _mine_ feeling he gets having big, strong Russia stripped bare and vulnerable on his knees in front of him.

Russia's self-conscious about his body, Canada knows. He doesn't really understand why – Russia's physique is incredible. Canada thinks he could get off on the breadth of Russia's shoulders alone, somehow. Sure, he's a bit soft in the middle, but it's endearing, and makes him all the more snuggle-able. Besides, you can tell that his abs are rock hard underneath there.

Canada enjoys scrutinizing him, even though he can feel his lover's discomfort. But Russia is _his his his_ , willing to do this for him anyway. And Russia doesn’t mind _too_ much – as his cock, bobbing half-hard, shows. Canada eyes Russia's cock for a long moment, but moves around to examine Russia's ass next. He's pretty sure he can get Russia fully hard before he even touches him. It'll be fun.

He's all the way there himself, and reaches to adjust his hard-on to a more comfortable position.

He crouches behind Russia, brings his lips so close to the top of his spine that he can feel the warmth coming off of his skin. He opens his mouth, lets a hot breath out and feels the tiny hairs prickle against his lips.

Russia inhales sharply, stiffens a little.

Canada sinks lower, trailing warm breath down Russia's back. He brings his hands up to trace Russia's sides, still not-quite touching. He knows Russia's probably thinking he's looking at the scars, but he barely sees them, really – the contours of the muscle in Russia's back are so much more captivating than the ragged lines of scar tissue that crisscross his neck and back.

He rises to his feet again slowly, careful not to touch, not yet, goes back to pacing around Russia.

Russia doesn't turn his head, but meets Canada's eyes once he's in view again.

The look in Russia's eyes is _so_ good, hot and cold and lusty and afraid and Canada would like to just – just crush him into the floor, fuck him so hard their cells fuse together. Give him something to be afraid of, show him there's nothing to be afraid of, all at the same time.

He waits for that overwhelming desire to _grab_ and _force_ to pass; he's trying to take his time, after all. And the last thing he wants is for Russia to regret this – Russia's got his demons, more than most do, maybe, and Canada doesn't want to stumble into stirring them up.

He half-chuckles, realizing he's been staring off into space with his hand cupping the bulge in his pants for too long.

Russia lips curve into a small, cautious smile at the laugh, and he just looks so cute and fuck he's Canada's, _mine, just_ mine, and suddenly Canada's had enough of the waiting thing. He takes off his glasses and sets them on the table before moving in.

He steps closer and leans down to kiss him, hard, and Russia parts his lips so readily, sucks on Canada's tongue and catches his lower lip a little between his teeth.

Canada sinks down to his knees so he's face-to-face, hip-to-hip with Russia – well, as close as they can get anyway, even if his eyes line up more with Russia's mouth than with his eyes. He buries his hand in Russia's hair and tips his head down and that solves that problem.

He slides his hands down Russia's back, appreciating again the _strength_ so obvious in his body. He kneads Russia's ass, fingers sinking into firm muscle as he turns up to lock his mouth on Russia's again.

He tightens his grip on Russia's cheeks, parting them a little, pulls him closer. He's panting as he breaks the kiss and his hold on Russia's ass to turn his attention to undoing his pants.

Russia shifts a little, his hard cock nudging the bulge in Canada's now-exposed boxers as he leans down to suck on Canada's neck.

Canada rocks his hips into Russia's almost unconsciously, falling into a natural rhythm with him, gripping his broad back. They press against each other, close and silent but for a few brief murmurs.

With a sharp breath, Canada pulls away just enough to retrieve the single-use container of lube from his jeans pocket. He awkwardly pushes his pants and boxers down his thighs, clutching the tube in his palm as he presses his body against Russia's, lining them up from chest to hip to their knees on the ground.

He meets Russia's eyes, finds assent there, so he breaks the cap off the container, squeezing most of it out onto his fingertips.

Russia leans into him as he parts his buttocks again, pushing a slicked finger against Russia's hole.

Russia makes a little sound as the fingertip enters, and it's so _cute_ that Canada can't help smiling, big and awkward and in a way that is probably not at all sexy but hey, this is them. It might not look perfect from the outside, but as far as Canada’s concerned at the moment, it is perfect.

Russia presses his face into Canada's neck, soft hair tickling, as Canada's finger goes in deeper. The muscle is already loosening from its initial tight clamp around his knuckle, and though Russia's breaths are halting and shaky, the heat of his skin, the way he's practically melting into Canada says enough.

Canada slips the second finger in a little more quickly and he's rewarded with an almost-groan that ends in a pleased little gasp. He traces a finger around the spot again and gets another breathy sigh.

He draws his fingers apart from one another slightly, feeling Russia's body opening for him.

The third finger is easy and by now Russia is pushing back against his fingers. Good, because Canada wants in _now_.

He draws his fingers out carefully, finding the tube again with his clean hand, squeezing the rest of it out and coating his cock with it. He sinks onto his back on the floor, glad that he's still mostly dressed – the carpet isn't the softest, and he'd like to keep the rugburn to a minimum.

Russia moves in, straddling his hips. The look he gives Canada is so deep and open that Canada's still marveling at it, captivated, when Russia's hand, lightly gripping Canada's cock to guide him in, jerks his attention away.

Russia closes his eyes as he sinks down onto Canada, lips parted in concentration.

Canada lets out a long, desperate breath. Russia's so tight around him. He clutches Russia's thighs, resisting the urge to start pounding into him.

Russia raises himself again after what feels like far too long. His breath wavers in that way that just makes Canada crazy and he gives in a little, lets himself thrust up a bit in the midst of Russia's long, slow upstroke.

Then he's sinking down again, the weight of him settling on Canada's hips, engulfing Canada's cock and it's so good, so complete somehow –

A few more slow thrusts, but then Russia's found his pace, rising and falling on Canada's cock. His eyes are squinched shut tight and he lets out a breathy gasp on every downstroke.

Canada's not silent either – his breath hisses through his teeth as Russia rides him.

Canada's fingernails leave deep red marks when he releases his hold on Russia's thighs, propping himself up on his elbows so he can watch Russia plunging down on his cock.

Russia breaks the rhythm for a moment, carefully leaning down over Canada to kiss him deeply before resuming, quickening his pace.

Canada knows he won't be able to last much longer like this. He runs his hand down Russia's stomach, tracing the path of the hair before closing his fingers around Russia's cock. Even now, with his mind almost entirely on his own cock and Russia's ass around it, there's still something immensely satisfying about the size of Russia's cock in his hand.

Russia's breath catches as Canada starts to work his cock in short, quick strokes, matching the pace of Russia's hips rising and falling.

Russia sinks down on him one last time and that's it; Canada's body jerks as he comes, Russia's asshole quivering around him. His strokes on Russia's cock become chaotic but he keeps his arm moving.

Canada's still trembling with aftershocks when Russia groans and comes too.

Russia eases himself off of Canada, collapsing to the floor beside him. Canada lets his head loll against Russia's sweat-slicked shoulder.

Russia's still breathing heavily when he speaks. "I think your clothes have gotten dirty."

Canada can't help the laugh that breaks out of him. "Guess so," he acknowledges breathlessly – there's a damp, shiny patch on the hem of his sweatshirt where lube got smeared, and cum dotting his chest, and maybe his jeans too.

He sits up, skins off the sweatshirt and t-shirt beneath, and kicks off his jeans, settling against Russia again with nothing but skin between them. He splays a hand on Russia's chest, feeling the pulse beneath his palm. He rests his head against Russia's, feeling the curve of his cheek so that he doesn't need to look to know that he's smiling.

All they need now is to be sure they don't fall asleep here on the floor.


End file.
